


By Order of His Royal Highness

by Kaoru_chibimaster



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: FFXV kinkmeme, Gen, Humor, kid noctis - Freeform, non explicit prompt, poor clarus the crap he puts up with, pre-game, regis is clearly being a good friend and having his back, young gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoru_chibimaster/pseuds/Kaoru_chibimaster
Summary: Clarus had to admit, he’d been chewed out a number of times before in his lifetime. But never by a twelve year old.





	By Order of His Royal Highness

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt.](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6341905#cmt6341905) The second fill, actually, so I encourage anyone to go check out the prompt so they can read the first one as well. It’s really cute.

“How’s training coming along?”

Clarus looked away from the group of young trainees, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Regis? I see they finally let you out of that meeting,” he said, watching as his king walked closer, inspecting said trainees with a critical eye.

“I had to practically claw my way out of that one. Another incident at the wall, it seemed. Now they want to argue over whether or not the crystal’s barrier is sufficient in keeping Niflheim out.” Regis snorted then. “I don’t see dreadnaught ships on our horizon anywhere. I’d say it’s doing its damned job well enough.”

Clarus grinned slightly at that. Regis’ frustration with his council was one both familiar to Clarus and amusing, if only because he understood Regis’ pain. He hated sitting through council meetings. It was comparable to sticking one’s head into a behemoth’s mouth, as far as he was concerned.

“I’d say it was too, by the look of things. No imperials marching through the streets.”

“Exactly. I can’t imagine what’s there to argue about. Instead, we ought to be sending forces out to the wall to investigate whatever went wrong. But we’re all sitting around a table screaming at each other and hoping the problems magically solve themselves,” Regis huffed. Clarus decided not to point out that this particular problem did magically solve itself. One only had to look up to see the solution, after all. Though the incident at the wall, whatever it may have been as Regis hadn’t elaborated, likely needed more than screaming councilmen and women to solve it.

It was times like these that made Clarus glad he was head of the crownsguard and not the kingsglaive. Titus was far better suited to handling incidents beyond city borders.

“By the way, you never answered my question, Clarus,” Regis spoke up again. Clarus’ brow furrowed as he wonder which question he was supposed to—ah, that’s right. How the training was going.

“About as well as one would expect when it comes to new recruits. Young people, all sent by their parents to whip them into shape most likely. They’re…well they’re trying their best, I suppose,” Clarus answered, his eyes sweeping over the training session. An older member of the guard drilled them through repetitions, though he was a bit too big to spar with them directly. That was a matter Clarus had decided to leave to his son, whose training was superior enough that he could teach, but physical form was (comparatively) small enough that he wouldn’t accidentally squash the recruits.

And speaking of, his son was noticeably late.

Even Regis seemed to notice, opening his mouth to comment before he was interrupted by a loud shout. A particularly loud shout of Clarus’ name, to be precise.

“Clarus!” the voice shouted again. Clarus looked behind himself, just in the direction Regis had come from, to find the twelve year old prince stalking towards him, a fist full of Gladiolus’ uniform shirt in his clutch as he dragged the older boy along. Gladiolus, for his part, looked a cross between curious and mortified. Especially when all activity in the yard seemed to cease at the sound of the prince’s voice.

“Your Highness…?” Clarus asked haltingly. He glanced at Regis for a second, hoping to find some sort of explanation for being suddenly called out. Regis only had an eyebrow raised, though he made no move to speak.

“You know about the Arts Fest in the city square, right?” Noctis asked…or grumped rather, considering his tone of voice. This time Clarus glanced at Gladiolus. His son had covered his face with a hand, the tips of his ears bright red. Well, Clarus wasn’t getting answers there either, it seemed.

“I…have heard of a festival happening in the city today, yes…”

“And you know me and Gladio and Iris wanted to go, right?”

Again, Clarus wondered exactly what he was being grilled for. So there was a festival and…? Festivals didn’t come before duties.

“I had heard Iris mention it…”

“Well then you’d know that Gladio promised to take us all out to city square so we could hang out there today. I already told dad I wanted to go and all he said was take Ignis with me, which I was gonna do anyway, so I don’t see why it’s a problem for Gladio to go too. He’s always training; I don’t get why he can’t take a break for a day and go out and have some fun. What, is he gonna forget everything he learned just ‘cause he skipped out one day? I don’t think so, and anyway it’d upset Iris if she couldn’t go because she’ll only go if Gladio’s with her anyway—”

Noctis continued on and Clarus could only find himself bewildered that he was getting told off by a voice-cracking twelve year old. It was like getting barked at by a particularly ornery puppy. Amusing, somewhat insulting (after all Clarus was a grown man and had no reason to take this sort of behavior, not even from a prince), and also…impressive. Clarus had only ever been spoken to in such a way by two people in his life: his father and Regis. He’d have never imagined, being as large and intimidating as he was, that anyone else would ever come at him in such a way. And yet here was Prince Noctis giving him the chewing out of a lifetime.

He glanced at Regis again. The king kept his face carefully blank, determined not to get involved. Rolling his eyes lightly, Clarus interrupted Noctis’ tirade.

“Excuse me Your Highness, but what exactly makes you think this Arts Festival is going to supersede Gladiolus’ training for today?”

“Well why not?! He’s fifteen, isn’t he allowed to have fun?”

Gladiolus, for his part, buried his face further in his hand and whispered “oh my gods” to himself.

“As a future member of the crownsguard, and a son of the Amicitia family, I should think work would come before fun regardless of age,” Clarus sighed. Noctis puffed out his cheeks indignantly.

“Well he might be your son but he’s my shield! If I want him to come with us to the Arts Fest then that’s what goes!”

The entire yard was silent then. Not a word, nor movement, nor even whisper of the wind. Clarus stared wide-eyed at the prince, bemused. Even Gladiolus had pulled his hand away from his still bright red face, watching his younger in what Clarus could only describe as pure horror and a touch of respect. Even Clarus had to admit…that took guts for a twelve year old who still had trouble with basic social interaction. Clarus had half a mind to say no despite that. Prince or not, that was a glaring display of disrespect from a child to an adult.

And yet…

Oh why not. Gladiolus wouldn’t stay young forever and if Iris really wanted to go to this festival, Clarus wouldn’t be the one holding his children from enjoying their childhood. He’d let the prince have this one.

“Very well, Your Highness. You are correct, he is your shield before anything else. I suppose it’s best then that he be out at the festival watching over you than here doing drills. Off with you both, then.”

Gladiolus’ eyes nearly popped out his head, they were so wide. He didn’t have time to react any other way before a grinning Noctis pulled him away, back in the direction they came. He shot a quick “thanks Clarus” over his shoulder before he and Gladiolus disappeared back into the citadel halls. Clarus turned to face Regis again, disgruntled.

“Your son just told me off.”

Regis, unable to hold his façade any longer, burst into laughter. He tried to say something through his laughter, starting a word multiple times, before finally giving up as he bent over, a hand on Clarus’ shoulder to hold himself up with. Behind them, the trainees slowly started their drills up again, thankfully none of them commenting on the spectacle they just witnessed.

“I’d like to see you find it so funny when he back sasses you like that,” Clarus said, shaking his head.

“You say that as if he hasn’t already,” Regis snorted. “He’s more headstrong than you’d think.”

“I’ve noticed,” Clarus replied dryly. Regis broke into laughter yet again.


End file.
